


Esca Teaches Marcus to Use His Words

by demon_rum



Category: Eagle of the Ninth Series - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_rum/pseuds/demon_rum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 x Marcus had to beg for it, and 1 x he just took what he wanted</p>
            </blockquote>





	Esca Teaches Marcus to Use His Words

Esca didn't tend towards jealousy and Marcus didn't tend towards selfishness; in retrospect, it was just a matter of poor timing. Very poor timing.

In a rare reversal of sleep roles, Marcus tossed and turned most of the night while Esca slept like a baby—flopping around in awkward-looking positions, desperately cranky whenever Marcus woke him, collapsing back into sleep almost immediately. After two hours of laying quietly on his side and watching the night fade into dawn he began to stroke himself, more bored than needy. He moved very little and came silently, unwilling to bother Esca.

Esca woke two minutes later with his regular and urgent needs, started to nuzzle and tease, and immediately put his hand in the wet spot Marcus had just created. He sat up, wide awake and very frustrated.

“You didn't wait for me.”

“I didn't want to wake you, Esca. You were sleeping.”

“I'm awake now. Come on.” He groped Marcus' now-flaccid penis, which refused to respond.

“Can we give it an hour? I could probably manage then—”

“Damn it!” Esca launched himself out of bed, pulling on his braccae as he headed out the door, hard-on leading the way. Marcus could hear him stomping around outside, starting the morning chores. He sheepishly slipped into his own clothes and started boiling their oatmeal. By the time Esca came back inside he had calmed down to the point of bringing Marcus a fresh egg as a peace offering. Marcus forgot about the whole thing, always a mistake.

Three hours later, while splitting firewood, Esca appeared and sidled up to him with a mischievous smile. Marcus grinned back, and Esca began to palm him through his braccae. Marcus groaned softly and leaned into his hand, enjoying how quickly he responded. Just as his arousal reached a point of urgency, Esca pulled his hand away. Marcus stared. Esca stared back.

“Look, you've made your point. I'm sorry I didn't wake you.” Esca didn't respond, so Marcus defiantly reached into his pants. Esca stopped his hand, shaking his head and smiling.

“Not a chance, Marcus. Fair's fair.” He spoke very softly. Marcus caught the danger in his voice. “Don't let me catch you touching yourself.” Without another word he turned around and headed for the barn. Marcus gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the firewood.

After lunch Esca did the exact same thing. Marcus tried to dodge his hands but was too slow. His balls were beginning to ache.

He spent the afternoon in the furthest field repairing a fence and hoping Esca wouldn't find him, wouldn't appear out of nowhere like a blond satyr. No such luck. This time Esca nuzzled and mouthed at him until Marcus had a large wet bulge at the front of his braccae. He started to wish he'd never gotten out of bed.

“Can we call it even now?” he gasped out. Fire raced up and down his thighs. Esca just smiled sweetly up at him from his knees.

“No touching.” He stood and began to walk away. Marcus squeezed his crotch hard, trying to push away the swelling.

“I can if I want to!” he complained to Esca's back, feeling like a stupid 13-year-old.

“No.”

When he headed into the barn to begin evening chores Esca was waiting for him, still smiling slightly. Marcus started to crack.

“Seriously, please. I can't take it. I'm sorry. I'll wake you next time. Please...”

Esca's smile widened. “What was that?”

“Please.”

“Please _what_?”

Marcus sighed and muttered, “please let me touch myself.”

Esca grinned. He looked very happy. “No.”

 _At least_ _when_ _I explode all over the barn_ , he thought, _Esca will be stuck cleaning up the blood_.

Then Esca reached over and pulled him close. “You're off the hook,” he whispered, “but I'm going do it this once.” Marcus let out a moan of relief as Esca began to mouth over his braccae yet again.

“Good. More. Hurry,” he whispered.

Esca took his time.

****************************************************************************************

The doctor left with his money and Marcus sat at their tiny table, trying to act like his splinted fingers and sprained wrist didn't hurt. Esca shuffled around in the background, cooking dinner and tidying up and trying to act like he didn't feel terrible about everything. After he had picked his tin drinking cup off the table, washed it, and set it back on the table to dry three times Marcus couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and Esca stepped over to him immediately.

“What do you need?”

“I just need to pee. I'll be right back.”

“You'll want my help.” Marcus started to disagree, then realized Esca was right. He couldn't even unlace his braccae by himself. So they went outside together; Marcus was totally embarrassed. Esca helped him hitch his pants back up and they walked inside in silence.

Marcus sat back down. Esca hovered. “Are you sure you don't need anything else? Drink?”

“I'm fine. Really, I can still do almost everything myself.” They both looked down at Marcus and his injured arms.

“Not possible.”

“Esca, leave me be.”

“I caused this—it's the least I can do.”

“It wasn't your fault.” His voice started to rise; his hands were really hurting now.

“Of course it was. I broke that horse. I should have known she wasn't saddle-ready.”

“Stop. It could just as easily have been you, and it could have been a lot worse than broken fingers.”

“That doesn't make me feel better, Marcus!”

He tried to run his hands through his hair. Bad idea. “Look—I heal fast, harvest is mostly over, and this looks more painful than it feels. I'll be fine so I don't want you to treat me like I'm helpless. I'm not. I can still hold a spoon and do chores, so if you want to be useful go muck out the stalls or something.” Worse idea. Esca looked miserable as he slipped away.

Dinner was an awkward affair, but he did manage to eat on his own while steadfastly ignoring the looks of concern radiating from the other side of the table. While Esca washed up he crawled into bed without a word, hoping to avoid any more discussion of the accident for fear he would say something even worse than he already had. They had both been edgy since harvest—it felt like nothing had gone right for a month—and a small disagreement could swell to something large and unpleasant.

He woke up in the middle of the night with a very large erection, one that steadfastly refused to fade. It just stood there, proudly, aching and rubbing against the blankets whenever he shifted. Shifting made it worse, not better, so he carefully reached down to see if he could relieve himself. No. He groped around for Esca, who had curled up in a ball on the far side of the bed, as far as he could get from Marcus without actually sleeping on the floor.

“Esca,” he hissed. “Wake up.” Esca stirred and grunted. “Come on.” He rolled over and stared at Marcus. Even in faint moonlight Marcus could see how tense and pinched his face looked.

“I'm sorry I was short with you; I couldn't admit how much my hands hurt. I wish I'd have let you help me out.”

Esca finally smiled a little. “I'm shouldn't have hovered. I felt it was my fault.”

“You always take good care of me.”

“I'm happy to do so, when you actually need it.”

“Well, if you're offering...” Marcus gestured towards the obvious tenting in his lap. Esca's face hardened and his voice went flat.

“You didn't mean that apology, did you.”

“Of course I did!”

“Right. Can't help you eat, can't help you pee, now you want a hand-job. You're an asshole sometimes.”

Marcus said too much in a rush of pain and frustrated arousal. “I am. I am absolutely an asshole, but I can't manage with my own hands like this, Esca! Look, I love it when you touch me. It's the best feeling I know. And it will help me get to sleep, I'm sure of it. Please! Help me?”

Esca shifted the covers around, bent over and gently licked around the top of his head. Marcus made a strangled noise in his throat. Esca looked coolly at him for a moment before curling up again, taking most of the blankets with him. “Maybe the fresh air will do it some good. See you in the morning, Marcus.”

***********************************************************************************************

Sleet drummed onto the roof of their roundhouse. They curled up on the packed-dirt floor, surrounded by blankets and furs. Esca rested his head on Marcus' arm while Marcus played with his hair and stared at the fire. They'd been tense and unhappy and short with each other for weeks, maybe months, as the season turned bad and the solstice approached and they struggled their way through the first year on their farm. This night of making love by the hearth was a sort of truce.

“Winters in Britain can be nice after all, as long as you don't have to go outside in them,” he mumbled into the top of Esca's head. “You told me that, I think.”

Esca gave a sleepy _mm-hmm_ in response.

“All that awful weather out there actually does make it cozier in here.”

“I know,” Esca muttered.

“Even though there's nothing to do besides eat and mend tools and play latrunculi.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” Marcus sighed.

“Mmmm.”

“Esca, why are you here with me?”

“Because I live here...” his voice trailed off. He still thought sleep was a possibility.

“No really—why? Is it just because you didn't have any other place to go?”

Esca caught a ragged edge of something in his voice and propped himself up on an elbow. “What are you asking, Marcus?”

Marcus shrugged a little. “I just wanted to hear you say it for once. Why you're here.”

“Because you have a flat stomach.” Esca deflected the question by patting his stomach in way of confirmation.

Marcus didn't answer that, just shifted away a little and stared up into the darkness. After a long pause he spoke again, so quietly Esca could hardly hear him over the rain.

“I'll take whatever I can get, Esca, and I'll be content with it, but sometimes... you don't... it's easy for me to speak what I feel, and I know it's not for you. But I wish you would say it for me, just once. If you wanted to.” He swallowed. “Will you say it?”

Esca stirred a little. “That's hard, what you're asking  for. ”

Marcus went silent again, for an even longer pause. No,  it's all right.  I didn't mean to bother you. ” 

Esca saw his face twist in the flickering light. Sad but resigned. They'd promised each other a year and a day and would be free to make that vow again in spring, if they wished. He already knew what Marcus would decide; he would never leave. But the last few months had been so hard for them. Spring not withstanding, Esca suddenly felt he had to make his vow here, now, as if he was wavering on the edge of a fence and his only choice was not whether to stay upright but to decide which way to fall.

Towards, then. Of course.

He reached over and took Marcus' hand, tightly curled into a fist. “What do you want me to say? That you're well-meaning and loyal? That you're more open-minded than any other Roman I know? That you're careful and hardworking? Those things are only a small part of it.” He spread Marcus' fingers apart and kissed him on the palm. “You hold my heart in your hands. How could I be somewhere else, away from where my heart is?”

Marcus lay still for a moment then exhaled, a long shaky sigh. He swallowed hard and pulled Esca over to him, under him, until he was resting on with his head on Esca's chest and listening to the rise and fall of his breath. “ _Ach,_ _m_ _o beatha,_ _mo_ _bhrionglóid—_ _g_ _o raibh maith agat_.”

Esca shifted to get more comfortable  and  rubbed Marcus' back  affectionately.  He  had been raised  on the idea that love was  won through bravery, cleverness or skill. He learned to reject everything  enjoyable  as a slave because it could be so easily taken  back—one more way for them to hurt you. But Marcus offered him love  without regard to circumstance or accomplishment, and Esca had no defense against that except to admit to himself  that no, he didn't actually have a choice. He would always fall towards Marcus.

He smiled a little, to think he could ever  turn away from a Roman willing to learn British for him.  “Your accent's coming along,  _mo ghrá_.”

They drifted off listening to the  rain  on the roof.

*****************************************************************************

Marcus offered Esca a fairly intimate Saturnalia present (in addition to a silver-embossed quiver) so Esca returned the favor by offering him a choice. Marcus  began to  regret the whole thing immediately.  He had  made his proposal  knowing Esca's  recent frustration with the lack of variety in their  sexual habits.A large part of him, however, had apparently assumed that Esca would be so impressed by the offer that he would forget to follow up on it. Not a chance.  Esca immediately lowered himself into the nearest chair, spreading his legs and leaning back with an arrogant you're-going-to-take-this-and-you're-going-to-like-it look on his face. Marcus knew that look well—it was one a corrupt Roman emperor might aim at a groveling subject.  Or a master might aim at a reluctant slave.

And, like a groveling subject  (he refused to think  _slave_ ), Marcus got down on the floor in front of him. But just when he thought the situation couldn't get worse, Esca lazily put his hands behind his head. Marcus fought back an urge to hide in the barn.

“You said you'd do whatever I asked. I'm making it easy on you!”

“No, you're actually making it worse.”

“But everybody likes choices.”

“Everybody likes _good_ choices.” He began to think the present had been, well, a bad choice.

Esca smiled  smugly  at him  through heavy-lidded eyes. He  clearly enjoyed see ing Marcus on his knees. “Slaves don't get any choices at all, you know.”

Marcus winced. Point taken. “I'd rather have no choice in the matter at all than have you spend the next week smirking over what I decided.”

“I'm not asking for much. I didn't say _fisting_. Hell, I didn't even say _rimming_.” Marcus shut his eyes. When he  had run through the list of un-Roman things he'd probably end up doing those hadn't even occurred to him. Esca continued, playing with his hair. “It's not much, Marcus. Just ask me for permission, nicely, or look me in the eye.”

He'd only done  this at night and  under the blankets so far.  Daylight was hard enough;  Esca watching would be even harder. He  flushed just thinking  about trying to  swallowing  Esca  down  while  making eye contact.

“Let me... take you in my mouth.” He stared at the floor.

“That's hardly asking,” Esca laughed.

“Please let me take you in my mouth, then.”

Esca shrugged one shoulder. “You're making me want eye contact.”

Marcus swallowed and ducked his head. He tried to sound sincere. “Esca, I'm asking you—please let me go down on you.”

“Better. Keep going. Convince me that you want to.”

“I do. I absolutely want to suck you off.”

“I still don't believe you.” He bent down and looked Marcus in the eye, suddenly serious. “I'm not trying to make you miserable, _ghrá._ But this is one of my favorite things, and I can't relax when you so obviously hate it. It would be nice to enjoy it for once.”

Marcus nodded and tried to set aside his shame, tried to sound sincere. “Esca. I'm asking you. I'm begging you. Please, I'm begging you to let me do this. Allow me to give you this.”

It  still sounded false to his ears, but apparently it  worked.  Esca  reached down to run  a  knuckle over his  mouth and  Marcus took  him  in  slowly , tonguing  and teasing and attempting  to  like what  he tasted.  He explored at first,  softly,  letting Esca feel his chapped lips and the inside of his cheeks, but as  Esca grew  stiffer he fell into a rhythm and began to slide  slowly  up and down.  Thighs tightened under his hands.  He sucked harder,  pressing further  down,  pictured Esca enjoying this  and wanting it to  continue  rather than worrying about  Marcus .

When he realized he hadn't actually heard much from Esca, though, he started to wonder if he was doing well, if he had actually said the right thing. So he took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Esca was  still leaning back,  gazing  down at him  with  stomach tensing and  teeth parted slightly,  his  face full of affection  and need. He smiled a little, and Marcus tried to smile back.  But that didn't work well, not at the moment, so he  breathed through his nose  and relaxed his throat  instead, trying to take Esca all the way in the  same  way  Esca'd done to him  so many times  already.

When he sank his nose into the  pale  tufts at the base of Esca's shaft, Esca gasped  and  thrust forward, clutching his hair so tightly it hurt.  Marcus backed off a little,  slowed his motions and  explored  the head of his cock, now leaking freely, before taking Esca back down his throat. Finally he heard what he'd been hoping for.

“Marcus... Marcus, _please_.”

**********************************************************************************************

“You did it again, Marcus!” Marcus stopped fiddling with the chicken coop's door and poked his head in the roundhouse. Esca stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips. Without a word he walked over to their bed, set a pillow square in the middle of it and crooked a finger at him. “On the bed. Go.”

Marcus laughed uncomfortably and shook his head. “I thought you were joking.”

Esca stalked over to him, small and furious, wearing his angry face. “I am always serious.”

Marcus took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'll get it down and I'll remember next time. Alright?”

Esca shook his head grimly. “Too late. Much too late, and we had an agreement. Bed.” He pointed into the hut. “ _Now_.” When Marcus hesitated he grabbed him by the arm and pulled. Marcus followed, dragging his feet.

“Stop, come on...”

Esca pushed him onto the bed. “Pants. Down.” Marcus stared up at him, wide-eyed. Esca glared down at him—he could out-glare anyone. Marcus pinched his lips together very tightly, shook his head in disbelief and then slowly lowered himself stomach-first onto the bed, pillow under his hips and easing down his braccae as he went. Of all the things he'd ever agreed to while drunk, this was possibly the stupidest. While he shifted around awkwardly Esca took his military-issued short sword down from the wall. Marcus buried his face in his hands and tried to pretend he was somewhere else. He'd heard Greece was nice, with white sandy beaches and curly-haired women feeding you grapes.

Esca brought the flat of the sword down hard against his bare cheeks. Marcus grimaced.

“That was one. Now what do you say?”

“I didn't think you were serious?”

 _Slap_. “Two. Try harder, and don't take your hands off the bed.”

“I'm sorry and I won't do it again?”

 _Slap_. “Three. You can do better than that, Marcus. I'm very disappointed in you.”

 _Slap_. His ass was beginning to genuinely hurt. Esca had strong arms and wasn't holding back. “I won't do it again, promise?” He was guessing now.

 _Slap_. “Stop! I get the picture!” He tried to shift away, but Esca put a hand on the small of his back and pinned him down.

 _Slap_. Esca hit him again, before he had a chance to recover from the last. “What did we agree to, Marcus?” He paused, sword in the air.

Marcus tried very hard to remember. There had been drinking and shamefaced, laughing confessions of things that sounded interesting but they'd never dared to try...

 _Slap_. “Ow! Damn it, Esca, I was drunk. I don't remember.”

Esca paused again. “All you have to do, Marcus, is ask me.”

 _Slap_. “But I already asked you to stop.” Greece: young men with muscular thighs in short tunics, rather than angry Brits hitting you with swords—

 _S_ _lap_. “You're bottom's getting really red—I'm impressed with myself. You honestly can't figure it out?”

 _Slap_. “No I can't... Esca, please!”

Esca stroked his burning cheeks admiringly before returning his hand to Marcus' back. “Think about it for a moment. What do I like?”

“Oral sex, horses, and telling me No when I ask for things.” Esca spanked him again, but not very hard because now he was laughing too much.

“Stop that. I am very serious and angry. So what's the best thing to say to me right now?” The sword hovered over Marcus, who thought fast.

“Please... hit me again?”

“Not bad! Getting there...”

“Hit me again—hit me harder?”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“Thank you, Esca—and please hit me harder?”

Esca set down the sword and climbed onto Marcus, straddling his hips.

“Sorry, but the answer is No.”

He started working his hand down between Marcus' hips and the pillow and Marcus lifted slightly to accommodate him. “Mmmm. You're hard.” Esca slid his other hand between Marcus' cheeks, warm to the touch, and immediately was able to push two fingers inside. He whistled softly and bit him on the ear.

“Romans are so much fun to corrupt.” He reached for the phial of olive oil that lived next to their bed. Nearly empty, as usual. He paused with the tip of his head just touching Marcus' hole, and Marcus looked back to glare at him in frustration.

“One last thing. What are you never to do again?”

Marcus murmured into the bed. “I absolutely promise not to hang the pots where you can't reach them.”

Esca gave his cock a firm squeeze. “Good lad,” he muttered as he slid in.

****************************************************************************

Winter dragged on straight through March, making them both wonder if Spring would ever rear her charming head. Naturally, when She did arrive everything happened at once: vivid blue skies, an entire landscape of greenery nourished by the months of rain, young yellow sunlight teasing open the wild flowers neither of them had the heart to pull, and clean, fresh winds that blew every last trace of must from the roundhouse. The garden grew weeds with an enthusiasm bordering on passion, bees dusted with orange pollen buzzed frantically over the apple trees, the lambs started exploring the near pasture, and the sow—a Saturnalia present from Uncle Aquila—produced nine piglets who loved nosing out of their pen and into the garden.

When the first hot day came unusually early, late-April, they started planting the summer crops. Marcus gardened, weeding and planting and staking up poles for the beans (re-staking, actually—damn piglets), while Esca plowed enough field for them to spend the afternoon sowing oats. They met back at the roundhouse for a quick bite of lunch.

Between bites of slightly stale bread and some of last year's salted beef, Marcus pointed out that it had been far too long since they'd had sex. Esca brushed the idea off.

“We're really busy. Got to keep moving. Can't spare energy for things like that.”

“It's been something like nine days, and you want it as badly as I do. Why not just take an hour now?”

“No time. Why waste efforts on sex when there's crops to sow?”

Marcus conceded he had a point. A very reasonable, thoughtful, mature point that in no way lessened the urge his body felt to celebrate spring by taking Esca to bed for passionate, frivolous, wasteful sex. The farm didn't help matters; it was exploding with fertility and growth. The ram kept humping the ewes, the gelding mounted one of the mares yesterday ( _best of luck, old boy,_ they said), the rooster went after a different hen every hour and the rabbits rutted nonstop in their hutch... even the landscape started to swell and blossom and expand with the new season. Nature could be so cruel.

Esca ignored it all with his usual intensity, focused deeply on planning and organizing and keeping every aspect of the farm at maximum productivity. No time for love, or lust, or even a quick hand-job before bed.

All Marcus could think about was _fuck_ _ing_.

So that's exactly what he told Esca. Esca, always practical, asked for specifics; Marcus, also being practical, laid it out clearly and directly as any proper soldier would.

“I'm going to start by sucking you off; you can return the favor if you want. After that I'm going to take you from behind—again, turn about is fair play. Up to you.”

“That's a good start.”

“I thought so too. Quick snack and nap, then if you're feeling sore I'll go between your thighs although I might just bend you over a fence and make you touch your toes or something.”

“Mmm. Options.”

“Finally a bath in the river—no, first I pin you down in the grass and come all over you with my fist, then a bath—and we'll be done in time for dinner.”

“Do I get a say in all this?”

“Probably not. If you don't want to I'll tie you to the bed and do it anyways.” He shifted uncomfortably. Simply describing everything had made him hard. Esca smiled and smacked Marcus on the head as he stood to go.

“You have a vivid mind, _mo ghrá_. See you in the field.”

***************************************************************************************

The spring sun beat down on their heads as they wove across the field with 40 pound sacks, scattering the grain one slow handful at a time. Both quickly stripped to the waist in the heat. Marcus enjoyed having sunlight on his shoulders for the first time in months but worried that it would be too much for Esca's much paler skin. The next time their paths crossed he insisted on checking Esca's neck and back to make sure he wasn't scorched. That was Marcus' mistake. Esca allowed Marcus to fuss over him—that was his.

As Marcus skimmed his hands over Esca's bare arms and took a close look at him—wearing nothing but thin, close-fitted cotton braccae, muscles shifting under a light sheen of sweat, hair sticking up at random, nose burning pink and body faintly scented with the sweet musk of hard work—he realized he wasn't going to doing any more sowing. His reserve of will power had run out. Unfortunately, he still had to convince Esca.

Somehow.

Esca noticed, of course. “Marcus, _ghrá_ , stop looking at me like that. We have nearly two acres left to go before evening.”

“I can't help it, Esca—everything on the farm is having sex except us, and you look so good right now. I know you want it as badly as I do.”

“Don't get any ideas. Put your army training to good use and focus.” He wagged a single finger at Marcus as he spoke.

Marcus wagged a finger back. “You have to let me have something. Something to hold me over until... later.” He gave Esca a look of innocent, moon-eyed pleading. Esca shrugged, humoring him again.

“Fine. Kiss me or something, if it will make you happy. Quick.”

Marcus dropped to a crouch on the ground, almost kneeling, gazed up with a look of pure lust and wrapped one arm around the back of Esca's knees. He pulled Esca up next to him and mouthed affectionately at his lap. Esca hardened but laughed it off and ruffled his hair.

“Good try, _mo ghrá_ , but you can't tempt me today. I might let you have a go later when—”

Marcus grabbed Esca around both legs, knocked him off balance so he flailed his arms and stumbled forwards, and then tossed him over a shoulder in one smooth motion. Esca's hip banged against his ear as he stood carefully, watching the weight on his bad leg, one arm around Esca's waist as if he were lifting a surly, protesting sack of flour. Esca twisted and tried to get purchase but his hands kept slipping because Marcus was also damp with sweat.

“What are you doing? Stop! Put me down!”

“It's my army training, a combat wrestling technique.” He couldn't stop smiling—he was finally going to get laid. Repeatedly.

“Marcus Flavius Aquila, put me _down_! There's no time for this—we have crops to sow!”

“It's a farm, Esca Mac Cunoval. There's always work to do. I'm declaring that this afternoon is _Later_.”

Esca started hitting him on the back of his thighs but could only get off glancing blows. Marcus, who had better leverage and positioning, slapped him as hard as he could manage on the bottom. He had solid, soldier's hands, and Esca's cotton braccae were quite thin; the noise made his ears ring a bit. Esca hissed and went still.

“That's better. I recommend you cooperate, because otherwise I _will_ tie you to the bed.” He started walking towards the roundhouse, leaning for balance, surprised at how light Esca felt. He should have thought of this ages ago. “You always make the decisions, and I always agree to them because you're usually right. But I can be right too. We both need this and you won't admit it, so that means it's time for me to take charge.” He began stroking the back of Esca's crotch through his braccae, because Esca couldn't reach to stop him. Esca tried to squirm away from his fingers and failed.

“Look, _mo ghrá_ , I'll give you a blow job. We can do the rest later.”

“But _Later_ is right now, remember?”

“Just put me down, Marcus. Please?”

“No.”

He could already see the roof of the roundhouse past the edge of the field. Marcus wasn't surprised at how painfully hard he had grown; he was, however, pleased to note Esca's erection grinding a wet spot into his shoulder as they jolted along.

Ah, Spring.

 


End file.
